


Lead Me to the River

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 21:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17271818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Gabriel stops by during a hunt and a ghost forces your feelings to light.





	Lead Me to the River

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Fluff; no pronouns used but ‘sweetheart’ is
> 
> A/N: I don’t really have much to say in this section. This piece may be a little rote, but sue me; I just wanted to write a small Gabriel thing. So I did :p Please enjoy my half-assed “Music Man” references. And the fic. Mostly the fic.

 

“This is a _terrible_ idea.”

You jerk back from the water even though you recognize that voice. You know it pretty well, actually. “What brings you out here, Gabriel?” you ask and dust off your jeans. The ‘river’ is more of a glorified creek, especially at this point– you could walk right through it if it wasn’t so fucking cold– but the fact that people have been found, completely drenched and with lungs full of water, makes it more dangerous than it looks.

You inhale crisp mountain air and turn your head enough to realize something is there but not enough time to recognize what or who before you take a swing.

Gabriel catches your weapon and looks down the length of it. “Is this _rebar_?”

“No. It’s iron,” you grumble and rip it out of his grip. Though you’re almost certain you didn’t actually hit him you touch the side of his head, just to make sure he’s okay. He looks surprised by the act and you have to remind yourself that you’re not really _supposed_ to touch him like that. You jerk your hand back. “Sorry; I was…” You turn away and look out at the scenery. Changing trees and a softly flowing stream are infinitely preferable to a bewildered archangel. “What are you doing here, Gabriel?”

“I was bored and decided to stop by and see what you were doing.”

His tone is so nonchalant. “I see.” You try not to let it get to you. “Well, I’m just being boring outside. Nothing to see here.”

“I think there _is_.” One minute you’re holding the iron rod, the next, Gabriel is twirling it like he’s the music man. “Especially if you think you’re going to beat up a _ghost_. Seriously, sweetheart; what’s the game plan here?”

You bristle at the nickname that is said so dismissively. On occasion you’ll let Dean get away with that shit with just an eyeroll, but hearing Gabriel say it, like _that_ , really rankles. It’s not that you’re opposed to Gabriel using a nickname, it’s that it doesn’t sound like– he doesn’t say it in the way you wish he would.

“Don’t call me that,” you say and take back your weapon.

“Why not? You let _Dean_ call you that.”

You stifle laughter. “Still getting along as well as always, huh?”

He sticks his tongue out as if disgusted and you laugh. “Seriously though,” he says. “Why can’t I call you that?”

You shrug, though you know well why. “It’s…diminutive. And sarcastic.” While Dean uses it _incredibly_ sarcastically, Dean is Dean, and Gabriel is something else. At least, you wish he could be something else.

Gabriel frowns and opens his mouth, but a branch snaps and his eyes dart around.

“Relax,” you say and spin the rod in your hand. Harold Hill, eat your heart out. “The ghost only goes after–”

Gabriel grabs your shoulders and spins you. Standing on the other side of the creek is a figure, dripping wet and flickering in and out of existence. So much for this only being a research trip.

“Oh.” You sigh. “ _Shit_.

 

“Soooo…what was that about what the ghost ‘only’ goes after?”

“Shut up.” You groan as you straighten out your back. You have a cut on your head from the spirit throwing you into a rock and your shoulder aches from when you tried to scramble away only to fall onto a _different_ rock (because slippery streams are an awful place to have a confrontation, thanks for that life lesson, Casper). You hadn’t wanted to destroy the spirit until you knew for sure why it had gotten stuck here, but even though you had asked him to stay out of it Gabriel had eventually had enough and, well, that was that.

Right now you’re soaked and it’s dusk so you’re freezing and you don’t really want to do anything less than strip out of your wet clothes, crawl into the blankets in your camper, take some pain pills and go to sleep for a while. However you had done _some_ research before coming to the site and Gabriel’s question irks you. “I don’t get it; families and friends and even people on their own have been _fine_ ,” you say and wring out the loose ends of your sleeves. “The victims were all couples. Or that one pair where one of them _wanted_ to be a couple–”

You stop too late and too soon and can’t find your voice to say anything else. You look at Gabriel to see if he noticed and his eyes are so wide your stomach crumples up like it’s made of paper and you start to panic. You half expect him to take off but he doesn’t and you’re not sure if that’s better or worse.

Gabriel grimaces. _Ouch_. Worse, then. “That’s…”

“…Not how I wanted that to come out,” you try to explain.

“Yeah, me neither, I– wait. What?”

‘What’ is right. But you both stand there, waiting for the other to speak. It doesn’t happen. Both of you seem equally unmotivated– or maybe you’re both really motivated to wait out the other. Unfortunately, only one of you is going to die of old age. “You heard me,” you say, a little too quietly so you clear your throat. “So…you too?”

Gabriel stares at you for a moment, and you think that if he takes off now you will _make_ him regret it. But his lips turn up, not quite a real smile and not quite his usual smirk, but something in between.

He approaches you slowly, and when he stops _right_ in front of you he slides his hand over your cheek, just under your ear, and curls his fingers to rest the pads on the back of your neck. Absently, you notice all your pain is gone. You honestly can’t tell if he sent it packing or if you’re just _that_ focused on him.

“Yeah, sweetheart, me too,” he says and when he leans in, so do you. The kiss is there and gone too soon and when he pulls back he asks, “Is that okay?”

“Uh…yeah; it was a little quick but definitely– oh.” You have to take a moment to rewire your brain (and _stop_ staring at his lips). Gabriel smiles knowingly (that doesn’t help). “Shut up. It’s…it’s good. Not diminutive or sarcastic; it’s…sincere.”

He leans back in, pressing his nose to yours and keeping his lips just barely away from where you really want them. “I can be sincere.”

A breathy laugh escapes you and for a moment you wonder about that. This archangel, so well suited to be a trickster that it was barely a real cover. Can he? Will he?

You’d like to find out. “Prove it.”

When he moves his mouth back to yours you can feel his smirk curl against your lips, but it softens soon enough, and Gabriel takes to your challenge with enthusiasm.


End file.
